Playing God
by daughterbringsthewater
Summary: Marie Wilkins is a completely normal girl placed a very abnormal situation after being abducted and thrown into a world she thought was imaginary. She also finds there's an apocalypse just on the horizon and she's smack dab in the middle. Joy.
1. Prologue

_Heeeeeyyyy, reader. If there's anyone actually reading this. Recently, I've been struck with inspiration, which is where this story came from. I'll be trying it out and seeing how it'll go – if people like it, I'll forge on. Reviews and favorites are loved and welcomed, so please don't be shy!_

_Amestris, Elrics, and everything FullMetal Alchemist belong to Hiromu Arakawa. Chatty, not yet named protagonist is mine, along with the plot idea. Enjoy~_

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><p><strong>Playing God<strong>

**Prologue**

_In which our chatty protagonist frames exactly what the hell is going on. Sort of - she's a bit scatterbrained._

I think I'll start this story by telling you one thing that you certainly didn't already know.

God sucks at playing chess.

Good, I've got your attention. How about another? God also has no gender, so I'm only saying He from here on out just so I don't confuse you. Also, God goes by a lot of names, and a whole bunch of avatars. There's Zeus, Odin, Quetzalcoatl, Cernunnos, and that's just the males. Hera, Freya, Brigid, Kali, Amaterasu. I don't know any female Aztec gods off the top of my head so you'll have to forgive me.

But the point of all that is this: just keep in mind that God comes in a lot of forms, a lot of names, a lot of minds, and basically all genders.

If you remember that, it'll make this story a lot easier to wrap your mind around.

Anyway, back to chess. For you humans, the game was really formalized and popularized around 1200 – big time, that. Lots of things going on. But for the deities, they've had it for..basically ever. It's a strategy game for them, like it is for you, but instead they plot and decide the outcome of the universe. Imagine how stressful it can be, sitting across from Thor and finding he really isn't that good at chess – he's got that electrified hammer, you know. Mjolnir? The name escapes me, but I think that's right.

But I've been rambling, haven't I? I'll do my best, now, to actually tell you why you're here, listening to me blabber about gods and angry Thor roasting opponents with his hammer when he looses the simulated battle of Ragnarok on that gold-plated chess set of his. Again. I really wish he would grasp he's going to be eaten by the world serpent and that's all there is to it.

I hope you're familiar with what happened a few years ago in Amestris. With the Homunculi? Otherwise this won't make much sense. Homunculi, ugh. Worst choice for creation ever, besides the atomic bomb and KFC. They're like children throwing a tantrum – but leave it to the original incarnation of God to bless (or curse) His humans with Virtues and Sins that they want to separate themselves from in an effort to become a 'Perfect Human'. Like that actually exists. I think He has an odd sense of humor, personally, but I'd never say anything.

I don't want Kali to toast my ass. She's vicious.

A recap, then. Ah, angry Homunculi, used a city full of people to create his own vessel. Many years later, unleashed his sins on the unsuspecting Amestrian public, all in the effort to touch the face of God and try to rip the Celestials down from the Heavens. Remember, God is one, but also comes in all forms. Don't get confused. His goal -the Homunculi guy, I mean - didn't really work, of course – he thought he got our power but really, that was just poking at the Gates, like trying to pull something open then realized you have no opposable thumbs and settling for ineffectually slamming yourself against it in hopes it will open. It doesn't really work, but you get a lot of nice trophy bruises. However, what really matters about this whole scenario are two brothers. Brothers probably closer to each other than any I've ever met, or probably will ever met. They're the one who stopped him, cast him back into wherever the heck those sorts of things go, and set to their lives in a way that only people who have seen too much can do – either single-minded determination, or complete horror and revulsion. Luckily, for both Elrics, it was the former, not the latter. They were just normal human boys – now men – trying to do the right thing. It may not have always led them to the right places, but their heart was in it, and that made them stronger than they probably realized at the time. They were important, because they had the will, the knowledge, and the determination, to rip down a failed creation of God.

Notice how I use 'A' instead of the. Because the Homunculus they stopped was only one of many, and the Elrics are soon going to become important again. How, you'll just have to stay and listen to me.

Me? What about me?

I suppose I should answer a couple questions, but I think you'll have to read on more to learn more about me. A joke is no fun if you give away the punchline early, and neither is a story. The way I speak is probably something you've noticed, though, and I can tell you about that. It's a lot more modern than you'd normally find floating around in their realm.

You see, the world isn't just one dimension. It's not just one plane of existence. There's..well...more than you humans have a number for. God doesn't even bother to name them other than something around "That one, there. You know, the ones with the talking trees and the birds as big as a ship." He can be rather imprecise when He wants to be. But me, I didn't come from Amestris.

I'll give you one guess and only say this:

Want to know the best way to end a really crappy day? Being abducted and thrown into a world you thought was imaginary.

Got it yet?


	2. Chapter 1  Jump the Shark

_Wow. Five reviews in just a few hours? You guys are amazing, that's never happened to me before. Thank you Thieving Alchemist, jpbrat10, Just..1544, Kiki and Emily, and __haaschiibrownii__. You lot rock. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations._

_And Thieving Alchemist, it's meant to be confusing. Marie is a bit crap at telling her stories and getting her thoughts out on paper. She went off on a tangent, there. You'll have to excuse her. If you take a quick peek on wikipedia and search Thor, and make sure it's the Norse god not the comic book guy, it'll make sense._

_As always anything FullMetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa. Plot and Ocs are mine._

_You'll have to excuse this chapter being a little slow – but I really want you to get to know Marie and her quirkyness more instead of jumping right into the action. Enjoy! Reviews are loved! Cussing ahead, just so you know._

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><p><strong>Playing God<strong>

Chapter Inspiration – Playing God by Paramore

_Cant make my own decisions  
>Or make any with precision<br>Well maybe you should tie me up  
>So I don't go where you don't want me<em>

**Chapter One**

_In which our story actually starts and you get to see Marie babble some more._

So I know I left you at a bit of a cliffhanger, didn't I? I'm sorry about that; I hate cliffhangers too. Especially if the person never actually updates again and leaves you sitting there, scowling and sipping at that bottle of coca-cola like it will soothe your anger or something. Well, that won't happen here.

Suffice it to say that my day started out basically like any other day, as these things tend to do.

It was a normal Monday in the Wilkins house, which tends to mean it's gonna be crappy. Mondays usually are, it's a rule, I'm sure. I woke up to Fergie playing from my alarm clock, which really only made me notice that my hair was in a rats nest, I had make-up smeared across my left cheek, and I looked more like a creature from the Black Lagoon than a bon-e-fied 18 year old. I certainly didn't feel 'Glamorous.' But that was normal, and despite the fact that I was going to be running late, I spent a good twenty minutes changing and fixing myself to be acceptable in a public space before heading down the stairs. My mother was singing in the kitchen, and the smell of breakfast began to draw me from my sleepy stupor.

"Cause you're hot then you're cold – Oh! Good morning, honey. Did you go to bed late last night? Again?" Mom said in that way only mothers could – the one that makes your insides crawl with guilt even if you haven't done anything wrong. I'm sure you know it. But it was alright, because my mother singing Katy Perry and dumping a plate of pancakes in front of me cleared that up. My mother's probably the only adult I know who can sing recent pop songs and still be acceptable to recognize as a parent. I'm not saying she doesn't embarrass me, because she does – which is why I hid the family photo album – but listening to her sing is great, because she's a musician and her voice is kick ass. She says it's the same for me, but I don't think so.

A word about my family before we continue. My mother's name is Helen Wilkins, she's 37, which means she had me when she was 19. I don't know who my dad is, but as far as mom says, he's a dead beat and I'm happy with never meeting him. They were high school sweethearts, but when she got pregnant he dropped her like a hot potato and ran away as fast as he could. But my mom's tough, she carried on and did something for herself. She's an artist and a musician, and actually owns her own art gallery – isn't that awesome? I'm probably a lot more proud of my mother than any 18 year old should be. Unfortunately, apart from our gray eyes, I don't look a lot like my mom. I can tell she thinks about dad sometimes when she looks at me – I'm all russet-skinned like he was, because he's mostly Native American, even though I have a smattering of freckles across my nose and cheekbones. I saw a picture mom had once, and I'm the spitting image of him. My hair is dark brown and somewhat curly and always untamed without a fair amount of war machines and hair products to get it to surrender. I've got his jaw, and his tallness – I tower over most of my friends. But luckily, I inherited most of my traits from my mother, so I guess we even out. I got her artistic talents, and her tough spirit, as well as her absentmindedness. I like to think I'm more like my mother than my father – the physical appearance is only part, right?

Anyway, back to the last time I'd see my mother for a very long time. Sounds ominous? Good, that's what I was going for.

"No, I didn't." Yes, I did stay up late but she didn't have to know.

"I did my homework and went to bed." Crashed, actually, without even bothering to take off my normal clothes. She rolled her eyes; I could tell she didn't believe me, but at least she didn't say anything about it.

"Whatever you say, honey." We sat together, eating breakfast and listening to the radio, perky and a morning person across from a person who would rather be in bed. I'll let you guess who is who. I was going to be late for the bus, but my school wasn't that far a walk. I could handle it.

"Do you have your bag?"

"Yes, mom."

"Your lunch money?"

"Yes, mom."

"Cellphone, keys, other teenagery things?"

"YES, mom. I'm 18 now, you've gotta stop policing me." I said, standing by the front door with my arms crossed. Mom looked up from the sink and smiled, a little bit sad.

"I know, honey. I know. You're going to be going to college soon, and then moving up in the world. But believe me, you're going to miss me when I'm gone and can't badger you anymore." She gave me that _'You just kicked my puppy'_ look and I sighed and walked over, extending my arms. She wrapped me up in a hug.

"Mom, that's still a while off. You've got plenty of time to get all your mothering out while I'm still here." She chuckled.

"Deal. Clean up your room when I get home, or I'll hide all the chocolate in the house, young lady."

"Challenge accepted. I've got to go. Bye mom!" I grabbed my jacket, my bag, and pulled my sneakers on, and the front door of our little two-story, cozy, always-welcoming-with-a-mom-smile-and-a-cup-of-cocoa-on-cold-days house closed on the crinkly smile lines around my mother's eyes.

I didn't even think much about it, taking the front steps two at a time before bursting through the garden gate and out onto the busy streets of the city. A check on my cellphone confirmed that it was too late for the bus and almost too late to get to school so I took off down the street, shouting 'good morning' to my neighbors when they saw me. They were used to my being late, so the elderly couple that lived next door to us, Mr. and Mrs. Green, just shook their heads and went back to the game of checkers they were playing on the front porch. They'd been married 50 years, and I hoped that one day I would be that lucky. However, when I plowed through the front door of my high school to see students skittering off to their classes, love became the last thing on my mind.

Math was first period, and that usually means death.

"Now take out your text books and turn to page 317. Today we'll be studying functions and..." Mr. Mather's nasally voice soon lost any interest to me, and as I flipped through the sizable mathematics text book that you could kill someone with, I wondered if he realized that everyone saw through his crappy comb-over job. Judging by his wrinkly slacks, messy sweater vest, and coke-bottle glasses, I judged that to be the least of his problems. He was the epitome of a nerd, but at least he was good at his job. I guess. I don't really pay attention in Math, I'm an artist and numbers tend to make me sick. My brain shuts down when I see them, it's really unpleasant. I won't go into the gory details of my Math adventures over the years. It was my best friend Shannon who was good at numbers and equations, though you wouldn't know it by looking at her. This morning, like all other mornings since the 4th grade, she was sitting next to me, scrawling down the answers with a bored look on her face like she already knew absolutely everything Mr. Mathers was saying. Which she probably did. Just looking at Shannon, you wouldn't peg her for a nerd. She absolutely gorgeous – and I can say so because I'm her best friend. She's pale, but it suits her big blue eyes and red hair, always tamed. She's always well put together, which looks weird when we go out somewhere together. She's wearing nice bright pastels, and looks perfectly feminine with her pearlescent skin and propensity to wearing skirts. You always see her first. Then you see me a few seconds after, towering over her 5'3 stature. I tend to wear paint-covered jeans, sneakers or boots, tee-shirts and sweatshirts. Shannon and I don't match, if you just look at us, but something about our personalities have kept us best friend since the 4th grade, when she punched a kid for pushing me over into the mud. She looks sweet and kind, but really, she's vicious with an xbox controller and swears like a sailor. As soon as she opens her mouth, any certainty you had about what she's like tends to get stomped on. But that's why I love her. I have a talent for getting in trouble, and she bails me out. I repay her with tripping over things, acting like an idiot, but always having her back when she needs me.

But right now, I needed her. A little nudge in her side and a glance to make sure Mr. Mathers wasn't looking had her answer book slipped a little across the table so I could look at it. All my friends knew I was a complete failure at Math, especially Shannon, so peeking at the answers was a common practice. Not on tests, though. I wasn't that bad.

"Now can anyone tell me what this equals out to? Ms. Wilkins, how about you? Unless you're preoccupied." My head shot up and there was never a person that exemplified 'deer in headlights' better than I did at that point. Mr. Mathers didn't typically notice my frequent copying for Math answers, but I should have realized that waking up to Glamorous meant that it wasn't going to be a good day.

"Um...well.." I trailed off, blinking as I furiously tried to figure out what the heck all those numbers and letters were on the white board. An equation? An alien language? Battle plans for a death ray? It could have been any of these things as far as I knew. None of it made sense, which was why I was scraping by the class with the skin of my teeth.

"You don't know, do you?" I wilted.

"No, sir." He shook his head, eyes magnified 5 bajillion times from the glasses he wore. He looked a bit like a bug.

"Speak to me after class, then." There was a chitter of laughter from the rest of the students, but a sympathetic look from Shannon, as well as a weak smile from my other friend Maxwell, who sat across from us. I could tell they had both wanted to save me from bug-eyes, but with the teacher looking, that had been impossible. I slumped, resting my chin on the desk. For the rest of the lesson, I did my best to listen and ignore the notes Well and Shannon were passing to each other. At the end, I dutifully stayed after while Shannon and Well headed to their classes. My classmates filtered out of the room, talking and laughing, like they understood what had just gone on. I felt almost betrayed by the rest of teenagerdom – who the hell, besides Shannon, actually understands Math when their brain is filled with a bunch of other junk? Really? C'mon guys.

", I understand you have an aversion to Math." Mr. Mathers sat at his desk and folded his hands, staring up at me. I think it bothered him that I was 18 and taller than him, even though he was easily a fossil from the Jurassic Era.

"Yessir."

"But you need to stop leaning on your friends for help."

"Yessir."

"Which is why I want you to stay after today with me so I can help you get past Functions."

"Yes- wait, what?" I heard that clearly and a bubble of panic ignited in my stomach. If his eyebrows could go any higher, they would have disappeared into his crappy comb-over.

"Ms. Wilkins, you're going to be in college in just a few short months, and you need to pass this class. I don't think you want to take it again in college? You'll have to pay for it." I could feel the iron bars of the trap closing around me.

"No sir."

"Which is why you'll stay after today...or I can call your mother and tell her you've been copying the answers from Ms. Jackson." My brow furrowed – this guys was cleverer than I gave him credit for. I allowed my ancient Math teacher a modicum of respect.

"Alright, sir. I'll be here after school." He nodded, and with a wave of his hand, dismissed me to go to my next class.

That was bad enough, having to stay afterwords with your Math teacher when it was such a nice early Spring day outside, but the rest of the day would prove even worse. The only good thing about the day was that my next class was Art, and I excelled in it. I'll gloss over that, because nothing really interesting happened and I don't think you want to hear me babble about my accomplishments – even though most of the paintings I've done are hanging up around the city and that my teacher has given me time to make a life size clay sculpture because I'm so good and my mom's sooo proud – I'll stop now. Really.

Lunch was the next unpleasant thing about the day. Usually, I love lunch time. I sit with Shannon, Maxwell, Claire and whatever boyfriend she has that week. Claire and I butt heads a lot, but she's friend with Shannon, so I try to be civil, even though we don't have much in common. Claire's really the opposite of me – perfect blond, perfect teeth, all bright and beautiful. She's a bit like Shannon, except Shannon is funny and doesn't care if I run my mouth, while in front of Claire I have to watch it. She doesn't like cursing, which confuses me why she hangs out with Shannon. She's got mouths like the dirty underside of a trash can. But we must have done something for her – maybe because Shannon was so smart and Maxwell was so unfailingly nice to everyone. I dunno.

Usually, Claire and I get along if we don't talk about things we disagree on. We're both stubborn and won't admit defeat, so it's lucky Well intervenes most of the time, before one of us dumps the slop they call cafeteria food over the other. He's our peacemaker, and I'm sure we exhaust him.

Today, however, she seemed to be in a very snappy mood. Maybe she was trying to impress her new boyfriend, maybe she was just letting me know I wasn't her favorite person – which I already knew – but I could tell as soon as I sat down at our little table and she threw me a glare let me know something was going to go wrong. Her eyes zipped over my gold paint flecked jeans, high-tops, blue t-shirt and sparkly bracelets Shannon makes me wear and she scowled. I didn't know why; I didn't look any different than I usually did. Not really put together, make up put on slap-dash without much care except to make sure it was in the right place.

"Hi, Marie." I resisted the urge to tweak my eyebrows upwards and gave her a slight, testing-the-waters smile.

"Claire, and..." My eyes turned to the guy sitting at her side. He was handsome enough, with dark brown eyes and tousled dark hair. Cute, I suppose. He smiled and extended his hand towards me.

"Ben." I smiled accommodatingly and reached across to shake it, but Claire shifted, knocking the table in a way I was sure was purposeful. My drink spilled all over my lap, and for an instant I wanted to tug all that pretty blonde hair from her head.

"Ohmygosh, I'm so sorry, Marie!" Even a deaf person would hear the lack of sincerity in her voice as she clenched her hand around Ben's arm. I gritted my teeth as Shannon handed me her napkin and Well darted across the cafeteria to get some more.

"It's fine. Really."

_'I also hope it's fine that I toss you out a window, you blond little-'_ Shannon could probably sense the murderous thoughts in my head. She knew me, so she stood, accepting the napkins from Well.

"C'mon, Marie. Let's get you cleaned up." She marched my unwilling, pissy self to the girls bathroom down the hall. Luckily it was empty – there were no girls gossiping and moaning about how they were ssssoooo fat. That probably would have just ticked me off even more.

"What the hell is her damage?" I hissed, clenching my fists to my side and counting to ten like my mother had told me to do when I got angry. Shannon just tutted and grabbed some paper towels.

"Dab at your clothing. And I don't know. I think she's threatened by you." I stopped in the middle of my wet-shirt dabbing and looked at her. I'm sure the look on my face was something like _'You're completely insane.' _because she rolled her eyes at me.

"Threatened. By me."

"Yep."

"You're serious." I looked at her face and found complete and utter conviction. It was a little bit intimidating.

"Shannon...are you on something?"

"No, you idiot!" She punched me in the arm, hard, like normal. I would probably have a bruise.

"But if you haven't noticed lately, Marie, you're pretty. God, you're such a dumbass sometimes."

"Gee, thanks, Shannon. You really know how to make me feel better." She ignored my blank tone as she went back to dabbing at my shirt. It was beginning to look a little less wet.

"I haven't been friends with Claire all that long, but I know enough that it takes her hours to get put together. She doesn't go _au natural_ like you do."

"Shannon, I wear masc-"

"Shut up. I know you wear eye makeup, but you're too lazy to do anything else."

"Why the hell are we frien-"

"_My point is,_ you may think it's a dumb thing, but you're naturally good looking, and she's probably wearing a couple pounds of makeup out there. If you did that, you'd just look idiotic." I scowled, watching my mouth turn down in the reflection the mirror.

Shannon could tell I was still a little bit upset, so in her best wheedling _'If you play nice, you'll get a treat'_ tone, she tossed away the used paper towels and spoke.

"Hey, how about we go to that nerd store you like after school?" I rolled my eyes at her, fingering my damp t-shirt as we left the girls bathroom.

"It's not a nerd store."

"It carries things from Japan, and tends to be frequented by mini Mr. Mathers. Nasally voices and all."

"...I see your point."

"We can go and get that new book you wanted. What was it...FullMidget something?" I chuckled. I loved Shannon, I really did, but she was as bad with names as I was with Math.

"FullMetal Alchemist. And I can't. I have to stay after with bug man." She grimaced sympathetically with me. I would have gladly taken her up on her offer, if I didn't have to stay after. I loved FullMetal Alchemist like it was my own goddamn child. The characters, the plot, the story arc. Brilliance in my opinion. Then again, I wasn't a writer – I was an artsy, music girl. I painted, sculpted, played piano and serenaded my friends with my guitar. Writing was, unfortunately, beyond me. My last attempt at a creative piece proved that.

Shannon looped her arm with mine as we walked down the hall, drawing me from my thoughts.

"You have to stay after? Ew."

"I know."

"Make sure you keep a stick nearby to beat him off."

"Shannon..."

"Yes?"

"Shut the hell up."

By the time we got back to the cafeteria, lunch was basically over. Claire and her boyfriend were gone, but Well was sitting at our table, waiting for us.

"Hey, you look better Marie. Not too much like a drink-related apocalypse." I kicked at Well's leg, but he dodged it with ease. There wasn't a lot of heart put into it, because I adored him as much as Shannon.

"Hey, hey, heeey! Stop kicking at me! Here, I got you another drink!" My whole face brightened as I reached out and grabbed the soda from Well's hand.

"Does it appease you, oh vengeful goddess?" His face was completely blank and I had to suppress a laugh.

"Why, yes. Yes it does. Oh, Well! You're so good to me!" I threw my arms around his neck and fake cried. He looked vaguely uncomfortable. Shannon let out an unlady-like snort.

"Alright you two, knock it off. We have to get to class." Any spark of joy that had been kindled by getting another drink vanished when I realized I had Chemistry next. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy Science, because our teacher was quirky and awesome, but we were doing a lab with chemicals today,which meant things were probably going to explode.

They did. Were you expecting anything else?

Our teacher, Mrs. Finch, was really awesome. She's always wearing these bright dresses and she's got this short blond hair that seems just as positive as she is. She's like the complete opposite of Mr. Mathers; fun, exciting, loves to get us interested in Chemistry. I usually really enjoy her class, but when I found out that Billy, the jittery caffeine addict that usually sat in the back of the class was going to be my lab partner, I got nervous. He tended to break things and knock over beakers. You can imagine how bad that was in a classroom full of chemicals. We put on our goggles and gloves, looking for all the world like some rejects from a sci-fi film. I could feel the goggles making red marks on my face.

"Alright, now drop half of the antacid tablet into the – only half!" For a moment, I wondered who she was yelling at, until a loud explosion somewhere a foot to my left made me deaf in one ear. Everything in me jumped up and moved about 6 feet when my left side was suddenly showered in the solution. I was preoccupied with doling out small amount of hydrogen peroxide, because my neighbors were all out and needed some and we had extra. I didn't notice Billy absentmindedly dropping the entire tablet into the solution. He'd backed away at just the right time, but I didn't. I felt partially deaf and most of my left side was covered in a stingy, unpleasant liquid.

"Oh goodness. Come with me, Ms. Wilkins." Amidst more chuckles from the rest of the students, Mrs. Finch walked me over to the chemical shower in the corner of the room so I could wash off my hands.

"I'm sorry you were paired with Billy, dear, but I know how patient you are." My teacher smiled and I couldn't help but be a little less angry. My good nature got me in trouble again – I didn't like Billy but it took someone like Claire, who was deliberately trying to upset, to piss me off. Billy was just...not all there. Well and I had a theory about how his brain had been taken over by aliens, but Shannon just thought we were dumb. She usually did.

For the rest of the class, Billy and I had to sit out and listen. He didn't even seem to care, sitting on the stool at our desk tapping his thumbs. His headphones were in, a bored look was on his face; he was the picture of a delinquent. I wasn't really surprised. We'd been in mostly the same classes since middle-school. I didn't talk to him much, but everybody knew who he was. At least, by sight. While he fiddled idly with his pencils, I sat awkwardly at my stool, shifting so often and wincing when an unpleasant squelching noise rose up from my wet clothing. And I just got this shirt dry, too. It seemed I was destined to be drenching with unfortunate things – sodas, chemicals, water when someone drove by and through a puddle.

That's what happened when I was walking home. After school, I spent two hours with Mr. Mathers, going over every problem I didn't know, which was basically all of them. I didn't like the man, but I had to admire his patience – I didn't make it easy for him to teach me, seeing as I'm basically an idiot with numbers. He tried, he really did, but Functions simply escaped me and I left school feeling rather put out. I was dumb with Math, it was colder, and was getting dark. All good reasons to feel blah. It was even worse when I was walking down the street and a car splashed through a puddle, sending a shower of rain water from yesterday over me.

What was it with liquids and splashing me?

I stood for a couple minutes, eyes shut, ignoring pedestrians, trying to get a hold of myself. I didn't normally loose my temper, but when I did it took a really long time to calm down. I didn't want to going into a rage in public – start smashing into things, throwing people through windows, kicking puppies. It wouldn't end well, lots of blood and tears and court cases. I didn't really want any of those. After gathering myself enough to where I wouldn't be charged for homicide, vandalism, or indecent exposure, I started to head back down the street again, taking a sharp turn down a side street that would get me to my house quicker. I had every intention of going home, showering enough to waste a 3rd of the world's water, then changing and devouring everything in the fridge that I could find. Mom would be home late today, because of a gallery presentation they were having at her gallery, something for a successful local artist, so I would have our house to myself. I wanted the evening to be something along the lines of beating every video game I could find, LIKE A BOSS, and eating everything in sight. I was hungry and irritated and just wanted to relax.

But should I have been surprised when I was suddenly jumped in the middle of the alleyway, especially after everything that had happened today? No. Some part of me was sarcastically shaking its head, but the rest of me was shrieking. A figure, probably a man judging from how heavy it was, suddenly sprung from what seemed like the bricks of the building, plowed into me like a boulder. I tumbled head over feet a couple times, landing with a slam against the wall in an alleyway between two apartment buildings. Every muscle ached and my heart was pounding like a drum. In all my years of city life, I'd never been mugged or attacked. Why did this have to happen now? In fact, why at all? A shattering sound, probably a broken bottle, sounded from somewhere in front of me and I tensed, opening my eyes to keep my assailant in sight.

I didn't like what I saw.

It was a man, but something was wrong. He kept..shifting before my eyes and I wondered if I hit my head harder than I thought. It was like he was obscured in smoke, thick oily black smoke rolling off his body and filling me with dread. He didn't seem _real, _but the jagged object in his hand was, and so where his fingers and his feet and the two cold eyes staring at me from sunken sockets. I wasn't the kind of girl who got scared; I picked up the spiders and put them outside, didn't shirk from a dare, and I didn't quiver from being in a room entirely filled with teenage boys and their horrendous antics. But there, crumpled against the brick wall, shards of glass littering the area around my feet while the distance between myself and my attack was swiftly crossed...

I was terrified. I couldn't even bring myself to move, the scope of my existence focused around that jagged _thing _he swung at me, stabbing down down _down. _His lips were twisted in a snarl; I threw my hands up in front of my face, shut my eyes, and shrieked, waiting for the ripping-tearing.

But it didn't come, and suddenly things were brighter in the world outside of my eyelids than they had just been. I almost didn't want to open them, but after several seconds of nothing happening, terror gave way to a little bit of curiosity. I cracked open one eye, and then the other when I saw that I was most certainly not in an alley way in my home city, but instead was sitting in a white void with no discernible walls, floor, or distance. Something in me, some memory, stirred.

"Oh great. I'm dead." It was the only explanation – unless I had fallen asleep all of a sudden. I wouldn't put it past me. Everywhere I looked in front of me, it was white. Endless, blank, white, like an empty canvas.

_'This can't be happening. This really CAN'T be happening! I can't be dead – I've got school tomorrow, and mom made me promise I'd clean my room and..'_ Every stupid reason to stay alive popped into my head, making me drop my face into my hand. I willed the void to go away.

"This can't be happening." And I sat like that, terrified to open my eyes again in case this wasn't a bad dream, until I heard a couple of voices somewhere behind me.

"I told you this was a bad idea. Look at her, she's terrified."

"I believe the humans call it 'Freaking out.'"

"Shut up Loki, you know what I mean."

I had to be in Hell.

"_Shut up Loki._ You're the God of Thieves, don't you have better insults? Maybe it's all in the family, all your pantheon leader does is throw lightning bolts when he gets pissed and screws mortal chicks." I could hear the grin in this unknown man's voice.

"Well may I remind you that your second in command is a hammer wielding ginger cross-dresser?" This voice, in comparison, was tight and prim, like he was trying to control himself from smashing the other two. Against myself, I turned, slowly focusing on the figures. They were a few good meters from me and were probably the weirdest thing I'd ever seen. The first one, Loki I guess, was tall with fair hair, fair skin and dark eyes like pits. I immediately didn't trust him. The other, which must have been Hermes if my small amount of mythology was right, was also tall, but with Mediterranean skin and cool green eyes. He was dressed in a toga of sorts, pinned at the shoulder. He was holding a short staff with golden snakes curled around it...and he was _hovering above the ground_. I had to stop a surprised yelp when I saw wings at his sandals fluttering, keeping him up.

"What are you surprised? It's _Thor._ Besides, you Greeks are wimpy enough to have a God of Wine. What the hell does he do, just get drunk all day?"

"Your leader pulled out his _eye _and dropped it in a _well._"

"For knowledge! Besides, you and I both know I don't associate with them. I'm only here-"

"Because you lost that last game."

There was a tense silence before the conversation picked up again. They didn't seem to notice me, but I noticed they didn't seem to be very good friends.

"Yes, exactly." Loki sniffed derisively.

"Now can we get to it? Giant snakes, right?"

"No, I think it's locusts this time."

"That was Moses." Loki gave Hermes a look like he was an idiot, but the fluttering god did his best to not rise to the occasion.

"Well what is it, then?"

"Are you sure you're also the God of Merchants? Because you're very bad at record keeping."

"That's it!" Hermes rounded on the other guy, fuming. His staff slipped out of his hand when he waved it through the air and – just my luck – it made best friends with my head.

"OW!"

The gods stopped squabbling, as if they suddenly realized I existed. Loki made a tutting noise with his tongue.

"Oh look, you've hurt the human." Hermes scowled before picking up his staff and extending his other hand to me. I accepted it, resisting the urge to pinch myself. If I did wake up, would I be dead then? Or was I already? I didn't know. Maybe I'd never actually woken up this morning and it was a horrible, _horrible _dream. I stood, looking at them, and they stood, looking at me, before Loki coughed and lost interest.

"Well, open it up then, and lets get this over with. I have a backgammon game to get to; I'm done with chess." Hermes pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know why you chose this girl, Loki but-"

"Hey, she'd be dead otherwise. You grateful for that, kid? I saved your ass." I blinked and it took a minute to realize he was talking to me.

"Oh. Well, I gues-"

"Good. So get her through already, Fancy-Pants. I'd like to see how she deals with an apocalypse." With his smarmy demeanor and ability to cut me off, I thought of Shannon and Claire, all mixed together in one male body. I didn't like him. With a sigh, Hermes waved his hand. A thunderous sound suddenly exploded behind me and I yelped – my nerves were shot. Too many things were going on to day and all I wanted to do was curl up and sleep and never get up again unless I absolutely had to.

"Wait, a what? An apocalypse? What the hell are you talking about?" My voice shot up, becoming an embarrassing squeak. Loki laughed derisively and turned me about, and Hermes gave me a look like he was trying to decide which flowers would look best with my tombstone. I forgot all that though, and everything important fell right out of my head when I saw the next and most freaky-terrifying thing of the day.

In front of me was the monolithic gate from FullMetal Alchemist.

"OK..this has to be a dream, right? I mean, this doesn't make any goddamn sense! Who the hell are you people!" Loki was pushing me forwards, unconcerned with my struggles; I was squirming and digging my heels against the floor.

"Doesn't matter, girl. It's all about you – now go avert that doom! We're just here to watch and enjoy."

"But I don't want to avert a doom! I just want to go home!"

"Oh, so you'd rather be stabbed to death? Cause that's what would happen if we sent you back."

"Well no, but-"

"Great!" The doors of the gate creaked open, deep stone rumbling that set my teeth on edge, and thick black tendrils began to ooze out. They reached for me, and my struggling doubled, but it was no use. Loki was stronger than me by a long shot, and it didn't matter because when I got close enough, the black tendrils wrapped around my arms and legs and pulled me in, ignoring my fighting and carrying on. I didn't think my heart had ever beat this fast and I was willing with everything I had that I would wake up.

Because this couldn't be fucking happening. No. Fucking. Way.

But it was, because the last image I had before the doors slammed shut on my face was Loki with a pleased smile, accepting a couple coins from a pissed looked Hermes.

I had been abducted, was thrown into a fictional gate, and was being bet on by gods. I didn't know whether to be pissed...or pissed. It didn't matter, though, because it had to be a dream and I was going t wake up. Right?

Right?


End file.
